


Rotten Desire

by justanothermaniac



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fighting Kink, I'm making it one, Knifeplay, M/M, Sibling Incest, Sort Of, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, better be safe, dunno if that's a thing, fight flirting at least, lots of flirting though, there's hardly any porn, these boys are damaged, this is isn't even pwp, we love that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: Jerome snorts. "How could I forget? Pretty little cunt knocked me out. That why you're into her? You like 'em dangerous? Cuz if you do, you should be all over me..."





	Rotten Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Fights. Are. A. Pain. In. The. Ass. To. Write. FUCK. Is that just me or do native English speakers struggle with that too? It seems like I can never properly put into words what I'm seeing in my mind. I hope it turned out okay though.
> 
> This is a silly little thing but I love it anyway. Don't know what happened with that ending though. It's almost crack fic worthy but this isn't a crack fic so I didn't put it in the tags. Idk. I caught a cold and my head isn't working properly.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, my lovelies!
> 
> ~ jam 💙

It's glorious, seeing his former prissy little crybaby of a brother let loose like this. Jerome can't stop grinning, his grip on Jeremiah's wrist tight enough to keep him from plunging the knife into his throat. Jeremiah's pale face is hard as stone, his soulless blue eyes of an otherworldly beauty. Jerome is stunned.

"Explain to me how exactly you're alive?", Jeremiah asks, his voice holding a small tremble from the effort it takes to withstand Jerome pushing back against his stabbing attempt. "I've seen your corpse, I've _touched_ your corpse." 

"Oh? Kinky ~", Jerome coos, pulling his knee up and ramming it in Jeremiah's stomach. He doubles over and Jerome pulls out his trusted switchblade. The metallic click makes Jeremiah perk up but before he can charge again, Jerome grabs a fistful of his hair and shoves him face-forward into the wall. "This is _Gotham,_ baby brother. Who really stays dead here?"

He presses close to Jeremiah, lightly dragging the tip of the switchblade down his cheek. It doesn't break the skin. _Not yet._ "Still waitin' for mommy dearest to show up at my doorstep and drink all my booze."

"You don't _have_ a doorstep", Jeremiah breathes out, his breath hitching at the cold caress moving over to his bottom lip. 

Jerome giggles, yanking Jeremiah's head back and nosing at the side of his face. "Awww, that mean ya won't let me crash here?" He grunts when Jeremiah's elbow connects with his ribs. Momentarily dazed, he's unable to react quickly enough when Jeremiah spins around, his own knife slicing through the air and nicking Jerome's cheek. He hisses at the slight but unexpected pain before dodging the knife at a second attempt.

They keep this dance up, maneuvering down one of the many hallways in Jeremiah's maze. Jeremiah's movements are quick and fierce, but controlled, his eyes holding a certain spark Jerome has never seen on him before. 

Jeremiah looks absolutely gorgeous in general, Jerome can't help but think. His purple suit is reflecting the dim lights of the hallway, silky green hair falling in his face. He's graceful as he wields the knife, flamboyant even, tongue flicking out to lick a drop of sweat from dark red lips. 

The corners of Jerome's mouth perk up, his stomach burning hot as he grips his own blade tighter. "So pretty and sparkly..." He dodges again and grabs Jeremiah's arm, using his surprise to yank him forward and hook one of his legs around Jeremiah's. He falls backwards with a surprised gasp and Jerome is on top of him immediately, pinning the hand that is still holding the knife to the floor.

Its his turn to press his blade to Jeremiah's throat. Jeremiah blinks up at him, blowing a strand of hair from his face. Jerome leans in closer, trying to remember the freckles his brother's face used to be sprinkled with.

"What prompted the style change, broski?", Jerome asks with a tilt of his head, sliding the blade down Jeremiah's chest. He resists the urge to apply more pressure, cut off the buttons and find more of this beautifully pale skin. "Not sayin' I don't _like_ it but I miss my cute little nerd with his dorky sweater vests ~" 

Jeremiah seems entirely unimpressed by his compliments as well as his teasing and something about that really grinds Jerome's gears. "If you actually wish to engage in a conversation with me, _brother dear"_ \- oh, how he _spews_ those words out, Jerome wants to _ruin_ him - "Better make it quick because -"

Jeremiah flicks his free wrist, a small pistol appearing from under his sleeve. He doesn't shoot but uses it to strike Jerome across the face. The pain is dull, numbing and Jerome can feel his bottom lip split open as his head snaps to the side, dropping his switchblade in his daze.

Its a setback and yet, he's grinning once Jeremiah changed their positions, now the one straddling his brother. Jeremiah tilts his head a little, smiling as he drags the dull side of the blade down a scar, the pistol almost gentle as it presses against Jerome's temple. "- you won't be alive for much longer."

Jerome giggles at that. "Always in such a rush." He manages to blindly get ahold of his switchblade again without alerting Jeremiah. "Of course _that_ didn't change."

He acts quickly, one hand coming up to grip Jeremiah's wrist and keep the blade away, the other sneaking under Jeremiah's arm. He slices through Jeremiah's sleeve, his brother's arm flinching away in reflex. The gun goes off, the noise loud enough to make both brothers hiss at the sudden pressure against their eardrums, but the bullet itself hits the wall instead of Jerome's skull.

Jerome snickers, shooting upwards and changing their positions once more. He pins Jeremiah down with his body, managing to pull the pistol from his grasp. He flings it aside and pins the hand holding the knife to the floor, but Jeremiah still isn't impressed.

His free hand shoots up and wraps around Jerome's throat. He grunts in discomfort but leans down closer anyway, grinning again, enjoying the feeling of Jeremiah's fingernails digging into his skin. "How ya been?", he rasps, holding his own blade to Jeremiah's throat again.

Jeremiah seems annoyed by this because it forces him to let go of his brother's throat and wrap his fingers around his wrist instead. Jerome inhales shakily, releasing the breath as a croaky snicker. 

"Fantastic, _thank you"_, Jeremiah grits out, his pinned hand trying to pull out of the grip. "What about you?"

Jerome sighs exasperatedly, like the weatherman just predicted pouring rain for the whole week. "Meh. Little cold." 

He hisses when Jeremiah twists his wrist and manages to throw him off. They scramble to their feet, panting, circling each other like two predators fighting over territory. But in their case, it's more like two predators waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn the other into their prey. 

Jeremiah uses the dull side of his blade to brush his hair out of his face. "I'm so sorry to hear that", he says, voice dripping with faux-sweetness, "I'll make sure you're wearing a sweater this time."

Jerome's grin widens to the point where it hurts. "Always looking out for me ~"

They're still circling each other, both needing to catch their breath but neither going to admit it. "Ya ain't half bad at this", Jerome says, bringing the tip of his switchblade to his forehead and tipping an imaginary hat at his brother. 

Jeremiah's smile looks almost genuine. Almost. "Thank you." He tightens his grip on his own knife. "I'll admit, I can see now why the GCPD and Arkham struggled with you. You are _quite_ difficult to kill."

Jerome throws his head back with a laugh. "You flatter me, broski!"

They charge at the same time and Jerome wonders if their _twin thing_ is still working its magic. He used to think fifteen years of separation (and the rather _inconvenient_ incident involving his, well, death) took its toll on their unique bond, but that was before finding Jeremiah again. He remembers the storm of emotions in his chest and stomach, how he was unable to tell whose emotions they even were. He remembers feeling Jeremiah's rapid heartbeat when they were back to chest, Jeremiah's trembling fingers clutching his arm. 

Their arms collide, blades grabbed firmly by identical hands. "The blonde bitch still with ya? Ya tappin' that?", Jerome asks, ducking from a punch, ramming his own fist in Jeremiah's stomach and making him double over again. 

He recovers quickly however, kicking Jerome in the shin before he can hit him again, prompting his twin to stumble sideways. "Occasionally." Jeremiah stands up straight, holding his knife up and still. He's smirking and it's such a foreign expression on his brother's face. "I'm surprised you remember her."

Jerome snorts. "How could I forget? Pretty little cunt knocked me out. That why you're into her? You like 'em dangerous?" He brings the tip of the switchblade to his lips, suckling on it. He likes doing that when he's thinking about something. He tastes metal and something sinfully sweet which has got to be Jeremiah's blood. He shivers with delight. "Cuz if you do, you should be all over me..."

Jeremiah chuckles, a condescending yet attractive sound. "I was all over you mere minutes ago", he reminds Jerome with a cocky tilt of his head and Jerome definitely enjoys the direction their fight is starting to take.

"Brother dearest, are you _flirting_ with me?" He cackles, slowly approaching his twin, twirling his switchblade between his fingers. "Thought ya wanted to put me six feet under. Again."

They're merely two steps away from each other now. Jeremiah has dropped his arm, considering Jerome for a long moment. His face is oddly soft. "I do." He takes a step closer, bringing the knife up, tracing the scars leading to Jerome's lips. He doesn't even blink. "I can't _wait_ to wipe that smile off your face...", Jeremiah whispers in a warm tone, the cold press of metal travelling over Jerome's bottom lip.

Jerome snickers, pursing his lips and pressing a kiss to the blade. "That ain't happening. You're more than welcome to try though, baby doll."

Jeremiah raises an eyebrow. Jerome traces it with the tip of his switchblade. "Pet names already? You're more sentimental than I would have expected, brother..."

Jerome has taken the last step forward, their hot breaths mingling as they caress each other's faces with their respective blades. It's a terrifying picture, crooked affection between two broken souls, something only the Valeska twins could possibly deem intimate. 

"You make it easy...", Jerome whispers, the tip of his nose bumping against Jeremiah's, whose eyes slipped shut. It's dangerous, Jerome thinks, reckless even because Jerome is currently running his blade down Jeremiah's jaw, to his pretty pale throat. It would be easy. It would be quick.

It would be a shame.

"Missed ya", Jerome hears himself admit before warm lips find his own, teeth sinking into the cut on his bottom lip. He hisses, his skin tingling all over as he pushes Jeremiah up against the wall, his hands finding his twin's thighs and picking him up. He realizes then that he must have dropped the switchblade. He doesn't remember doing so.

When a pair of hands finds his hair, the delicate fingers combing through it before gripping, Jerome realizes that Jeremiah dropped his knife, too. Curious.

He doesn't dwell on the thought for too long because Jeremiah just made the most _delicious_ little noise, a mix between a moan and a purr and _fuck,_ Jerome wants to drown in his brother, his scent, his touch, his hungry lips. He shoves his tongue in Jeremiah's mouth, grinding against him, the contact making them both shudder.

Jeremiah's arms wrap around his neck, trying to pull Jerome in closer. He breaks their kiss, however, to whisper in his ear: "I might keep you alive just a little bit longer."

He bites Jerome's earlobe and Jerome grunts from the pain. It's good though, _so_ good and he digs his fingers deeper into the soft flesh of his brother's thighs, as deep as the barrier of clothing allows him to. "Bet'cha fifty bucks and a blowjob that, by the end of this, you're gonna wanna keep me around forever ~"

He sinks his teeth in Jeremiah's neck, making him flinch and whine needily. He tastes copper and laps it up, the sweet taste of his brother's blood like a symphony on his tongue, making him shudder in pleasure for what feels like the hundredth time.

Jeremiah, naturally, has to ruin it. "We'll settle with a blowjob. You just came back from the dead, I know you don't have any money to pay your upcoming debt with."

* * *

Jerome _did_ get that blowjob.

* * *


End file.
